A Fine Line
by ashihime
Summary: Violence begets violence - and sometimes pleasure.


Note/s: This has been a wip for…forever. Thank God it's out of my hair. This fic occurs in the events of S5E3. Any errors you find will be rectified at a later time.

 **Warning/s:** Violence, Hate(sex), Language, and all that problematic stuff.

* * *

Kill or be killed.

Kill or be killed.

 _Kill_ or _be killed_.

One more assassin dead.

One last assassin to kill.

She jumps back from the fallen tree, back to the safety of the cliff edge. With the scythe of her kusarigama, she splinters the rotten wood. _Crack. Crack._ Jack does not waste time. He runs, charging at her. He leaps just in time as the tree plunges into the frozen air below. He lands a strong punch, enough to send her back a distance. Her weapon drops in the snow between them. They immediately scramble for it.

Jack grabs the scythe. She grabs the other end. Their hands twist the chain as they pull for possession. The cold metal bites deep into their grip. The ice beneath their feet is a slippery struggle for purchase.

The assassin digs her heels into the snow and with a cry, tugs back with renewed determination. Jack lets go at that exact moment. She stumbles but the blade misses her. The chain doesn't. The whip of its force sends her mask flying as she lands on her back. Jack takes advantage of her fall. He lunges at her before she regains her bearings.

He straddles her thighs; his hands closing around her throat. He tries not to see the pain and rage in her draining face. Tries to see her as anything but human _. Kill or be killed_. He tells himself _._

 _Kill or be killed_.

He feels a trembling cry vibrate against his fingers and a desperate hand clutches his wrist. Her bleary eyes look up to him pleadingly.

"Please…stop…"

This moment of humanity throws him off.

And he hesitates, grip slacking.

His mistake.

Sharp nails rake across his face, nearly blinding him in one eye. He only manages to grimace when she pushes him to the ground, reversing their positions.

"I will end you samurai!"

She tries for his face again. He catches her hand. Then the other.

She rages. He seethes.

She tries to stand but Jack pulls her down on him, then rolls them over. They wrestle on the ground, flailing limbs and bodily harm. In their tangled violence, she manages to bite him twice on his neck. He pays her back, teeth sinking into the flesh of her shoulder. It registers to him that her body is covered in some form of black film as her blood congeals with the powder. His own trickles down his face.

She tries kneeing him in the gut. Jack grunts, then bears his full weight on her, splitting her legs apart. He manages to pin her wrists above her head. Her heels thrash uselessly at his hips as she writhes beneath him, frantically trying to shift him. Jack glowers down at her. Options weigh in his head. With it, macabre delight. _Bash her skull. Strangle her. Snap her neck._

 _Kill or be killed._

He lowers his face to hers, close enough for his beard to brush her chin.

"I _gave_ you a choice." He reminds her, staring darkly into her bloodied face. "You chose this path."

Her eyes glitter with a new rage. She lets out an animalistic growl, then, snaps her head forward. Jack winces in pain as she captures his bottom lip with her teeth. She bites hard.

He tears his lip away from her, now split in pain, the blood oozing down his beard.

He did not think it possible. That she—or anyone—could provoke him even more, to push him even further.

"You cunt."

He had promised never to stoop to such vulgarity. To not let this miserable Aku-infested world get to him. But lately, his principles seem to keep disappearing on him. Six dead bodies prove it.

"You _crazy_ fucking cunt!" He roars in her face.

She bares her teeth, stained pink with blood, and presents him a twisted smile that reaches the malice in her eyes.

"You are a coward, samurai!" She sneers. "Aku is the Master of Masters and will end you!"

Jack clenches his teeth. The mention of that name sends a spike of anger through his body.

"Be quiet."

"Your death is certain! Aku desires it!"

"Silence!"

"Aku is the Father of all Fathers!"

"I said"—!

His greatness cannot be"—!

He shuts her up before she can finish—his mouth slanting over hers.

He can taste his own blood.

She makes an outraged noise and tries to move her head away, but Jack follows, crushing her lips and protests with his mouth. His injured lip stings, further aggravated by the pressure and rough texture of his own beard. She tries to fight him of course, attempting to bite him again, but Jack pulls back before she can.

"You lecherous scum." She snarls. "I will kill you. As long as I have breath in my body, I will strike you down." She arches her back and squirms under him. Jack's strong grip on her wrists remains secure, foiling her attempt to break free.

"Stop it." He says. "You need to calm down…" He wants to tell her it meant nothing to him, just a diversion to silence her maniacal tirade. But when he attempts a word of his explanation, it is squashed down by intrusive thoughts of her pressed body rubbing against him, in ways that catch him unawares. He can feel every curve, every ripple of muscle, gliding against his own, her wriggling movement traps a friction of heat between their bodies. In the biting cold of their surroundings, it is a respite.

Without his knowing, he shuts his eyes, savoring the thrill that runs through his spine. The bloodlust begins to dissipate, his mind focusing on the lurid details of her body. He can feel twin scraping against his chest, and his loins tighten at the awareness that their her nipples - and she's bare. Completely bare.

The assassin grunts, her frustration in smoky puffs of breath, as she tries to work herself free. She flattens her feet to the ground and lifts her hips. In doing so, pushes up the remnants of his ragged clothing. Jack hisses, the proof of her effect pressing into her abdomen like a branding heat.

His hold on her is shaky as she renews her struggle, stoking a spark of pleasure he would never have imagined. His eyes remain shut as she adjusts herself once more, trying a new strategy of getting her bent legs underneath him so she can push him off. But Jack does not budge and she only accomplishes in tormenting him with even more pleasure, with his length nestling comfortably between her thighs. She continues her ignorant movements, stroking him with her skin, her rough force building up a good pressure.

It's more than his nerves can take.

He groans.

Loudly.

Almost immediately, the assassin stops.

Jack exhales through his nose, his shoulders trembling. Reluctantly, he drags a gaze to her face and is immediately taken aback. Through the vapor and heat of their breaths, he had expected to see disgust and anger, of sharp teeth and narrowed eyes...not a half-lidded stupor of pink-stained cheeks and quivering lips.

For a long time, they are still, the cold wind nipping at their skin, bringing emphasis to the warm, strange sensation of their pressed bodies. Jack watches her face, waiting for a hint of her next move and hoping with desperation that it will be an attempt at his life because he does not know what to make of this situation.

But she only stares back, looking more and more alluring with each stretching second in the snow. There is something unnervingly beautiful, like an in-between of thrill and fear. The contrast of black hair and red blood against the pristine white is something no mere _tanka_ could possibly capture.

The assassin grunts, breaking Jack from his awe - and pushing him to the brink when she slowly rolls her hips, bumping against him with deliberate meaning. The raw message in her dilated eyes cannot be faked. Animalistic curiosity strumming in the air.

Temporary madness would be their silent consensus in the aftermath. Because there is no logical explanation for the actions that follow, only an overload of stimuli.

Jack angles himself properly before pressing down, his hardness gliding between the slick softness between her legs. And she lets him, thighs spread and small feet hooking behind his knees. He all but completely collapses on top of her, sharp breathless grunts in her ear as he bucks and rubs against her. The assassin still retains her fighting spirit as she matches his movement with fervor. He slides his face into the curve of her neck, breathing in the outdoor elements embedded in her skin. He can feel her pulse quicken and he flicks out his tongue to taste it. She tosses her head back with a gasp, granting him access to her neck. Jack lifts himself a little, and adjusts his grasp, allowing one hand to roam the length of her body, frantically squeezing what they can like a desperate hunger that only grows with every fevered touch.

Instinct soon takes over and he aligns himself accordingly to her waiting entrance. His primal urge delivers one clean thrust, completely sheathing himself inside her, while seemingly pushing out all the air inside her lungs. Jack hisses through his teeth, a bolt of pleasure nearly shocking him undone as her walls clamp around his cock like wet clinging silk. He lays still, adjusting to the new sensation, of the liquid fire pooling in his abdomen.

The assassin finally speaks again.

"You...you monster." The venom she affects in her words do not conceal the softening lilt of her tone. "Mother was right...you would seek to...to fulfill your...twisted depravity onto my being…!" She contradicts her words, rolling her hips again, trying to suck him deeper into her cunt.

Jack bends to her ear.

"You are just as _depraved_." He sneers, panting. "Moving against me."

"Mother said...you would... _fuck me_...the first chance you get!"

Her anger is nothing more than playacting at this point.

"I think…" Jack whispers raggedly into her ear. "You've always _thought_ about this. You _want_ to be fucked by the samurai."

He punctuates his claim with a deep thrust.

She breaks, moaning in wanton abandon as she pushes against his hips for more. He willingly obliges, his shaft pulling out slowly before plunging once more inside her. His toes curl into the powdery snow as they continue rutting on the cold ground. As Jack increases the speed of his thrust, he becomes complacent and releases her hands. But instead of violence, the woman only wraps her arms around his middle, nails digging into the taut skin of his back. The bruises and injuries do not register anymore, only the intensifying ecstasy of their carnal ritual. Rough, crude, and base.

When he reaches his limit, Jack groans with the constricting of his muscles. The assassin follows with a cry of her own. His hips gradually slow down as he finishes inside of her. He then crumples over her frame, spent and exhausted.

Moments later, when he catches his breath, Jack braces himself onto his forearms to study her. Her eyes are dazed, skin flushed and dewy, and her lips are red with smeared blood. Jack feels that he should kiss her out of some ceremonious obligation but knows that cannot be. Quickly, he slips away from her and stands a distance. The cold washes over him with stark reality.

Then, there is guilt.

Fortunately, he does not have to dwell on it long as the assassin jumps to her feet and they return once more to being enemies.

Not that it had ever changed.

* * *

Jack's breath hitches as he watches his bride peel away the last layer of her shiromuku. Blushing, she neatly folds and puts it away together with the rest of their clothing. They sit on the large futon, completely naked, waiting for one of them to make the first move.

Jack runs a nervous hand through his long hair, a faraway look in his eyes. Ashi cannot help but worry and immediately wants to put him at ease with whatever is bothering him.

"Jack?" She says. "You don't have to fret." She smiles, mimicking his actions by combing her own hair with her fingers. "After all, this isn't the first time we've"-

"No," He stops her. " _It is_."

Ashi's brows rise in confusion. She opens her mouth to correct him, but he does not allow her.

"Ashi…" His jaw trembles as he struggles with his words, eyes brimming with sadness. "You deserve a beautiful memory to cherish...and I did not give you that." He bows his head with remorse, hair falling like silken strands. "And I will always carry that shame with me."

"Does it really matter?" Ashi asks. She hates seeing him like this. "It was still you."

He snaps his head up. "It matters because _I love you_." His voice is shaky - anguished and desperate. "And tonight, I will not sleep until every inch and every fiber of your being knows that. Until I have paid every bruise and cut with the tenderness you deserve."

He moves closer, cupping her shoulders with his strong hands. With a soft nudge, he guides her until her back is laid onto the cool sheets of their wedding night and covers her with the breadth and length of his body. There is delicate thought put into every movement. Every kiss and every caress is not without heartrending promise.

Ashi tries to contain the tears that threaten to spill out. She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him close until their foreheads are pressed together.

"Jack…"

"Yes, Ashi?" He murmurs, his tone promising the world.

She smiles.

"Be gentle, it's my first time."

* * *

End.


End file.
